When Mischief Manages You
by kci47
Summary: Harry is out for a late-night stroll and sees something shocking on the Marauder's Map. When he goes to investigate, what he witnesses makes him regret it! Written for "Dirty Deeds and Skirts 'Round the Knees" on HPFC. One-shot, set during sixth year.


Harry shifted restlessly in his bed, listening to the droning cadence of Ron and Neville's combined snores. Seamus was muttering in his sleep, and Dean was silent as always. Harry decided just then that Dean was his favorite roommate. He wondered whether it was possible to cast a sort of reverse Muffliato around the snorers. There was probably a simple spell, now that he thought about it, but he wasn't Hermione and didn't know how to go about it. The cacophony seemed to grow louder in response to his frustration.

It was no use – he couldn't sleep. Slipping out of bed, Harry padded to the window and noiselessly climbed onto the ledge. He pressed his forehead to the cool glass like he'd been doing to comfort himself since he was eleven. He was probably imagining it, but it seemed as though his forehead had worn a small dent into the glass over the years. Snorting softly, he wondered if there was even a slight lightning shape etched into the glass.

After a few minutes of staring into the twilit grounds, Harry found his foot jiggling impatiently against the stone. It seemed his usual stargazing was going to be no help tonight. This was what he got for taking an extended nap in the middle of the lazy Saturday, he supposed. Now it was barely eleven at night and he was wide awake.

His thoughts turned to his usual activity when he couldn't sleep: wandering the castle. Quickly pulling on an extra layer of socks – both for warmth and stealth – he rummaged in his trunk until his hands found the familiar textures of the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map. Settling the cloak around his shoulders, he tiptoed out of the tower dormitory, waiting until he was in the common room to whisper "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The map sprung to life, lines snaking across the pages and dots appearing to show the locations of others. Most were tucked in their dormitories, but Harry idly spotted some activity near the Great Hall, so he set off in the opposite direction. Noting that no one was approaching his wing of the castle, Harry tucked the map into the waistband of his pajamas and meandered through the corridors. He had spent so much time patrolling the castle at night that he walked without conscious thought, nodding or waving at certain portraits as he passed. Interestingly, some of them were not fooled by the Invisibility Cloak, or perhaps their hearing was just heightened, but in any case, there were a few that regularly saluted him as he passed them on his nighttime strolls.

Harry was reflecting that perhaps three pairs of socks might have been warmer when he heard the unmistakable sound of another person nearby. Pressing himself flat against the wall in a manner honed by years of practice, he held his breath and froze every muscle in his body. Yes, he definitely heard a voice – two voices, actually – but they did not seem to be coming closer. Relaxing and releasing his breath, he listened carefully.

The voices were hushed. Taking stock of his surroundings, he realized that he was in the same wing as the library, although it was still a few turns away. Sliding the map out of his waistband, Harry unfolded it as quietly as possible and quickly located himself on it. Turning the map so that it was oriented the same way he was, Harry let out a gasp and dropped the parchment before he could stop himself.

The sounds of talking ceased, and for one heart-stopping moment, Harry thought he was discovered. _Please, don't let _them _find me, not after what I've just seen, _he prayed fervently to whomever might be listening. When the voices resumed, Harry slumped against the wall. They must have decided it was just a ghost or the castle's creaks and moans. Gathering up the map, Harry brought it to his face slowly, hoping that he'd misread it earlier.

_No_. It still showed the same, unbelievable thing. Just around the corner from him, there were apparently two people standing quite...close. The two sets of footprints were practically right on top of one another, and there was a great deal of...shifting. Harry shuddered. Normally he would have already moved closer to investigate, but the names attached to those two pairs of misbehaving feet prevented him.

Swallowing his nausea, Harry made a decision. Maybe the map was wrong, somehow. _The map doesn't lie, _his inner voice reminded him, sounding strangely like Professor Lupin. Right, well, there had to be some explanation. Maybe...maybe one of the people was injured, and the other was carrying them! Yes, that had to be it.

Relieved at his explanation, Harry inched towards the corner to witness what he was sure was a simple misunderstanding. He moved slowly, so slowly that his feet were barely leaving the floor, instead sliding over the smooth stones with barely a whisper. As he neared the corner, the voices grew louder. Checking the map again, he noticed that the footprints did not appear to be moving forward.

Gulping, terrified he would give himself away, he sidled around the corner and peered into the darkness. During the nighttime, only a handful of candles remained lit in each hallway, so it was difficult to see through the dimness to whatever was happening up ahead. Noticing a large pedestal displaying an ancient painted cauldron, Harry crept closer and huddled behind it. The two people were now just slightly in front of him, and as he struggled to control his erratic breathing, he was able to hear their conversation more clearly.

"Just – a little – more," the girl panted, sounding wildly out of breath. Her only answer was a grunt. Harry strained his ears, hoping there was a logical explanation – hell, _any _explanation! – for what he was hearing, other than the obvious one. Because the obvious answer was that this girl was being, ah, pleasured. In a corridor. By a man...

Leaning around the pedestal, Harry forced his reluctant eyes to take in the sight before him. The girl was being supported by the man, her legs wrapped around his shoulders and her, er, center approximately at the level of his face. The man's hands – oh, how Harry wished he didn't recognize those hands! – were wrapped tightly about her thighs. Harry's desperate thought was that perhaps this was a joke, or perhaps the man was actually just a Polyjuiced impersonation of the real man –

But it was no good. Those were the same billowing black robes trailing on the floor, the same innumerable amount of buttons on the vest. And all doubt was erased when the man spoke, for it was the same deep, biting tone as ever.

"Are you quite done, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape growled, the sound slightly muffled by Hermione's school skirt. He, too, sounded out of breath. Harry felt the urge to gag.

"Almost," came Hermione's voice, and Harry knew he'd never heard her sound so...so...winded. "Just a little to the left – no, back just a bit – now up – yes! That's it!" she cried.

Harry spun back around behind his pedestal and stuffed his fist into his mouth, trying to prevent the dry heaving that his stomach was attempting. He wanted to cut off his ears, poke out his eyes, have Lockhart Obliviate him –

He doubled over, clutching his belly, as the heaves racked his body. Attempting to control his breathing, he slowly removed his hand from his mouth. He'd bitten into his knuckles so hard he'd drawn blood, but he barely noticed. The dual pants and grunts coming from the other side of the pedestal were only getting louder, more frenzied. Harry's eyes widened as he realized he needed to make a run for it if he didn't want to be present for the terrible conclusion.

Before he could take a step, however, Hermione's voice rang out again, commanding in her best bossy tone: "Don't stop now! I'm almost done!"

Mere nausea did not begin to describe the disgust that Harry felt. It seemed that there would be no way for him to escape before they were, ah, _done_.

"I beg your pardon for my lack of stamina, Miss Granger," the aggravated voice of Professor Snape replied. Harry shuddered violently, trying hard not to think about the implications of Snape's stamina...or lack thereof. "But it is not every day that I am forced to assist insufferable students in this manner-"

His rebuke was cut off by a sudden cry of delight, and Hermione said excitedly, "Oh! Yes!" Harry clapped his hands over his ears, not wanting to invade Hermione's privacy any more than he already had – but his indignation asserted itself, rightfully pointing out that she should _not _be engaging in such activities in a _hallway_ of all places if she wanted any privacy. He removed his hands, needing to know if they started to move in his direction.

"There we go, all done. You may put me down," Hermione was saying. There was a great deal of shuffling and then she added, "I would assist you in such a manner, if need be, you know." Snape's grumbled answer did not reach Harry's hearing, for which he was immensely relieved. "I don't know why you didn't just use a Levitation charm..."

As Hermione expounded on the reasons why a charm would have worked so much better, Harry realized he wasn't going to be able to hold down the contents of his stomach any longer. Wildly calculating the distance between his hiding spot and the nearest bathroom – or even the nearest alcove – Harry took a few shaky steps before the next sentence pushed him over the edge.

"Charms are unreliable, Miss Granger, and I needed to keep you steady so that you could reach your goal as quickly as possible," Snape drawled, his words dripping with his usual disdain. When Harry's mind flashed him an image of what _else _Snape's mouth might be dripping with just now, he couldn't help it – he threw off his cloak, grabbed the painted cauldron atop the pedestal, and hurled.

He was sick for several long seconds before the retching subsided, and even then he was still queasy. Refusing to look up, Harry pressed his eyes closed and begged the castle to just swallow him whole. There was complete silence from the other side of the pedestal, and Harry deliriously wondered if by some miraculous chance the other two occupants of the hallway had fled. He was not that lucky, however.

"Harry?" Hermione's concerned voice floated over to him, and he groaned, mashing his face into the carpet. Maybe if he just laid here they would give up and leave. As soon as he had that thought, though, he knew it was hopeless – when had Hermione ever given up on anything besides Divination?

"Potter," Snape snarled, sounding positively gleeful. "What are we doing out of bed and wandering down this particular corridor, hmm?"

Harry didn't answer. He was still holding out hope of being swallowed by the floor.

Hermione's soft hands brushed the hair back from his forehead, and he heard her mutter "Aguamenti" before she mopped his face with a wet cloth.

"Here, drink this," she murmured to him, holding a glass of water to his lips. Keeping his eyes shut tight, Harry allowed Hermione to help him sit up, and he drank the water gratefully. "Harry, are you alright?" Hermione's voice was worried.

"ALRIGHT?" He shouted at her. "HERMIONE, AFTER WHAT I'VE JUST SEEN, HOW CAN YOU ASK ME IF I'M ALRIGHT?"

When she didn't answer right away, Harry cracked his eyes open, blinking at the brightness of the hallway. They must have lit more lamps while he had been lying on the floor, because the hall had been much darker before.

"Harry..." Hermione's voice, curiously, contained no hint of embarrassment whatsoever, only concern. "Do you need the hospital wing?" She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, feeling for fever.

He smacked her hand away. "No! What I need is for someone to erase the last five minutes from my memory!" he growled.

"I will volunteer," Snape offered silkily, stepping forward and rolling up his sleeves. "Although you may find more than five minutes missing from your mind when I am done with you, Potter." There was a feral sheen to his usual sneer.

"And you!" Harry pointed at Snape. "How dare you- she's your student- that's disgusting-" He was incoherent in his outrage.

"Harry, what on earth has gotten into you?" Hermione looked horrified that Harry was addressing Professor Snape in such a manner, but Harry didn't care.

"He took advantage of you, Hermione!" Harry spat. "He's nothing but a dirty, old, disgusting-"

"I believe you've already used 'disgusting' once this evening, Potter," Snape pointed out as Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth at Harry's tirade.

"Well, if the robe fits," Harry countered, shakily standing and grasping for his wand. "I demand that you leave this school immediately, or I'll tell Dumbledore what you did!" He shifted into his battle stance, pointing his wand at Snape.

"HARRY, you can't be serious!" Hermione clutched at his arm.

"I won't let him defile you and get away with it," Harry told her firmly.

"Defile- Harry, what exactly do you think you just saw?" Hermione asked him, suspicion in her tone.

"I'm not stupid, Hermione, I know what the two of you were doing," Harry said. "When I saw your dots on the map, standing so close, I came to investigate, thinking you were hurt," he explained. "And then when I saw – saw his _face_, Hermione, in your _skirt_ – well, I tried to leave, but then – but then–" He gagged slightly as he was forced to relive the moment, but he fought the nausea down. "But then you were done, and I just couldn't make it far enough before I was sick – what is funny about any of this?" he finished, outraged at Hermione's peals of laughter.

"Oh, Harry, oh, I can just see it," she gasped. "You thought – you thought we-" She couldn't complete her sentence, she was laughing so hard. Looking from Hermione to Snape and back again, Harry was completely confused. Hermione leaned against the wall, still laughing, while Snape's expression grew more and more thunderous.

"Miss Granger, are you quite finished?" Snape barked. For some reason this only made Hermione laugh harder. Finally, after a few minutes, she regained some control, wiping the tears from her eyes with her sleeve. Taking a deep breath, a few more chuckles escaped her, but at last she was able to speak again.

"Professor, don't you see? Harry saw us and thought that we were, er, engaged in, ah..." Here her Gryffindor courage seemed to desert her, for she faltered. Taking a swift glance at Professor Snape, who merely raised an eyebrow, she continued. "He thought that we were engaged in – in activities of a – oh, of a sexual nature!" she finally ground out, her cheeks flushing a bright red at being forced to spell it out to Professor Snape.

"I see." Snape's voice was frighteningly cold. Harry grimaced, wondering how many weeks of detention he had just earned himself. "Allow me to correct your erroneous-as-usual assumption, Potter. I was performing my nightly rounds when I discovered Miss Granger exiting the library. I insisted that she accompany me back to Gryffindor Tower to ensure that she did not get herself into further trouble after curfew. When we entered this hallway, I noticed that several of the sconces had been dismantled – no doubt the work of Peeves – and I stopped to fix them."

"Yes, and I offered to help." Hermione picked up the story. "It was no use trying to magic the sconces back into place, as there are a number of clips and hooks, so I suggested to Professor Snape that he just levitate me up. We tried that on the first one, but I was drop-" Snape's low growl seemed to halt Hermione's explanation for a moment, but then she rushed on: "I mean, I _fell_ a few times, so I suggested that he just hold me up to the wall. We were just finishing the last one when you must have come around the corner," she ended her explanation, looking at Harry expectantly.

"Ah," was all he could manage. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as they all stared awkwardly at one another. "So, you weren't, um..." He gestured needlessly between the two of them.

"Gods, no!" Hermione burst out. "I mean, er, no, we weren't doing anything inappropriate," she corrected as she caught Snape's glare.

"That's good, then," Harry said weakly. "I guess we'll just head back to the tower?" He looked at Snape for approval, hoping the professor would be embarrassed enough to avoid handing out detentions.

"I think that would be wise," Snape growled. "Lest you are accosted by some _other_ 'dirty, old, disgusting' creature in these halls."

Harry laughed feebly, but it quickly died when he saw the murderous expression on Snape's face. Grabbing Hermione's arm, he started towing her down the hallway away from their angry professor.

"Goodnight, Professor!" Hermione called awkwardly. Harry elbowed her in the ribs.

"Just so you both know," Professor Snape's voice drew them both to a halt as he strode towards them, "there are no problems whatsoever with my...stamina." He blew past them in a swirl of robes, the slight breeze from the air he displaced ruffling Harry's hair.

Hermione barely had time to jump back before Harry was violently ill again. He was going to put away the Marauder's Map for a very, very long time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Haha! Written for the "Dirty Deeds and Skirts 'Round the Knees" competition on HPFC. The challenge was to write a story explaining the bit in the credits of Prisoner of Azkaban where the map illustrations show two pairs of feet in a rather, ah, interesting position. It's a smut challenge, and while this story is not technically smut, I was rather pleased with myself for trying to think of a creative explanation for those two pairs of feet being there. And what better way than the ol' Muggle-changing-a-light-bulb idea? I hope you liked it, it's just a bit of silliness, but I enjoyed writing it immensely! And it came in about 40 words under the 3,000 word limit, so yay for that. Sadly, I am not JK Rowling, no matter how many times I remind my family to call me 'JKR' for fun.**


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